Blackout
by liveluvride
Summary: Wee!Winchester fic. 8-year-old Dean and 4-year-old Sammy are alone in the motel when the power goes out. Love and panic ensue.


**Blackout**

So... here's a wee!winchester fic. 8-year-old Dean and 4-year-old Sammy are alone in the motel when the power goes out. Love and panic ensue. Mostly Dean-centric (sorry Sam fans!), just a quick fluffy thing.

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING! NOT MY CHARACTERS OR ANYTHING

Enjoy! Remember to leave reviews, they're all GREATLY appreciated! :D ~liveluvride

It was six pm on a Sunday night when the power went out.

A fierce storm had been raging all evening, wreaking havoc on the shabby little motel that John Winchester had left his two boys in for the weekend. Now that Dean was eight, he'd been deemed responsible enough to care for his four-year-old brother during short periods of time while his father went on hunts.

Dean knew all about the kind of business his family was involved in; his childhood innocence had been shattered the day he saw his mom pinned to the ceiling and set alight. Sammy didn't know yet, and his older brother firmly intended to keep it that way. While most older brothers tried to drop not-so-subtle hints about the doubtful existence of Santa Claus, here Dean was stuck hiding things about dangerous creatures from his permanent shadow.

The two brothers were sitting on the moth-eaten sofa, watching cartoons on cable that was flickering in and out. The storm was making Dean nervous: not that he'd ever admit that to Sam. The younger brother was terrified enough of the dark as it was, so Dean had to put on a brave front.

Suddenly there was a loud snap of lightning, and the TV clicked off with a crackle. The lights dimmed and went out, and an eerie silence swept over the room with the absence of the cheery TV program.

"Dean…" he felt Sammy take his wrist in a vice-like grip. "Dean, I don't like the dark…"

"It's ok, Sammy," Dean tried to soothe him, frantically glancing around to make sure he had a clear path to the gun drawer. Sure, it was probably just a blackout from the colossal storm raging outside. But there was always a chance that there was another cause… and there could always be things hiding in the dark.

Sam started to sniffle as his brother slowly shifted to get up. "Relax, I'm just going to get the flashlight," Dean told him, trying to mask the tremor in his voice. He gingerly put his feet down on the floor and began feeling his way around. He had no clue where the flashlight was—of all the things his dad had left him (including four varieties of guns, enough salt for an instant heart-attack, and what seemed to be adequate holy water to fill the Gulf of Mexico), the man had neglected to tell him where to find a freakin' _flashlight. _

Dean stuck his hand inside a drawer and moved it around, trying to look around without his sight. As he blindly felt around, his hand scraped towards the back of the space and something closed on it. And bit down.

"SAMMY!" Dean shrieked in alarm and ripped his hand back towards him, barely pausing as he grabbed the gun and tripped his way back to the couch. He could feel the two thin rivers of blood trickling down his arm from the teeth marks. Leaping onto the couch, he almost crushed his little brother as he landed. Dean pulled Sam's head under his arm and laid on top of him, like a human shield.

"W-what's going on?" Sam asked, looking up at his brother with huge, imploring eyes that went unseen in the pitch-dark.

"Shh… it's ok. I won't let anything hurt you," Dean promised, whipping his head around and trying to keep all corners of the room in his sight. "There's something in here with us, but I won't let it find you. I swear." If there had been any light to see by, Sam would have been shocked at the carnal, savage expression that flashed across his protector's face.

A quiet noise started up along the wall. _Footsteps_, Dean thought, tensing. So whatever was in here could bite people, and walk around? _Maybe it's a vamp_, a dark voice in his head suggested, _maybe you're going to turn_…

"No," Dean whispered almost imperceptibly. The footsteps continued.

The scratching at the door nearly sent Dean over the edge. "Sammy, get under here," he commanded, shoving his brother under the couch. He walked to the space next to the door, where he'd be hidden but close enough to shoot when someone walked in. Dean cocked the gun and waited.

When John Winchester opened the motel room door, he took in the complete darkness and knew he had to watch himself. If he wasn't careful, his son would probably take his head off with a shotgun.

"Dean," he began, "it's me. Is everything ok?"

John was alarmed to feel a sudden presence step forward from behind him. He shone his flashlight (that he'd conveniently brought with him, forgetting to leave one for the boys) down to see Dean standing behind the open door with a gun pointed at him.

"Woah, son. It's just me," John said, carefully taking the weapon out of his child's hands and unloading it.

"Dad, there's something in here," Dean whispered, his eyes huge in the beam of the light. "It bit me when I went to get the flashlight."

"Where did it bite you?" John asked, instantly on alert as he checked out the two tiny holes in his son's finger. No creature he'd ever encountered made such tiny bites, but hey, there was a first for everything...

Wordlessly his son pointed towards the kitchen drawer where he'd searched for a flashlight earlier.

"It must have reached from behind the drawer and came up through it," Dean explained. "I just wanted a flashlight!"

"It's fine. We'll get to the bottom of this," his father reassured him. He crept to the drawer and cautiously directed the light beam around inside. He noticed the blood leaking in a clear trail from one point in the space.

"Dean, it was just a stapler!" John had to hold back the urge to laugh. In his blind panic, his son must have stapled his finger and assumed it was a creature waiting in the dark.

Dean's mouth dropped into an O. "B-but… I really thought…"

A sudden thought came to his father's mind. "Hey, where's Sammy?"

"He's under the couch," his son responded, like that was the most perfectly normal place for the young boy to be. "Sammy, you can come out."

A wide-eyed Sam crept out from his hiding place and immediately ran over to hug their dad.

John smiled at his older son's unwavering dedication to his brother's safety. Even in his fear, Dean had come through and put his brother first, as his dad always instructed. He'd used his head, exercised caution, and been ready to shoot to defend what was important. Even though it wasn't exactly a terrifying creature he'd had to face off with tonight, Dean would make a fine hunter when the time came.

John couldn't be prouder of his boy.


End file.
